


Please Be Naked

by Only_angel_28



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Student Zayn, Bad Boy Harry (but he’s a cupcake really), Banter, Drama Student Louis, Flirting, Fluff, Harry has a motorbike and Louis really wants a ride ;), M/M, Model Harry, Motorcycles, Nude Modeling, Nudity, POV Louis, Pizza Delivery Boy Niall, Riding, Rimming, Sassy Louis, Sexual Tension, Strangers to Lovers, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 11:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13006809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_angel_28/pseuds/Only_angel_28
Summary: Louis starts squirming, desperately needing something to do with his hands. Needing to do anything, really, to distract him from the perfect male specimen standing naked in front of him. In the end, the only thing he can do is strip out of his own jeans and briefs, which he does with trembling, clumsy fingers, his heart beating out a violent, chaotic rhythm in his chest the entire time.He hears Harry’s sharp intake of breath, and slowly raises his eyes from where he was staring at his own bare feet to meet his gaze.“So,” Harry says bashfully, his voice gone even deeper somehow. “We’re naked.”“Yup,” Louis squeaks.“You okay?”No!“Yup,” Louis repeats, sounding just as unstable as he did the first time.This is the last favor Louis Tomlinson is ever doing for Zayn Malik. (Because, after today, he’ll be dead, but that’s neither here nor there.)*Or the one where Louis agrees to help out Zayn with one of his art projects and ends up getting much more than he bargained for.





	Please Be Naked

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, loves! 
> 
> I'm back with another one shot for you. I've got so many things in the works right now, and I can't wait to share them with you all! I'm in the middle of writing a super fluffy holiday fic that I'm hoping to have finished by New Year's (probably an unrealistic goal, but fingers crossed!), and a more angsty piece that I'm really excited about, but it's taking longer to finish than I originally anticipated. Plus a few other bits and bobs because I have serious commitment issues when it comes to writing fic apparently. 
> 
> This piece is something I started back in October and then abandoned to work on other projects. Today, I got a sudden surge of inspiration and sat down and finished it in one session. I'm the type of writer where if I don't stop and get something down right when the inspiration strikes me, often times I lose it completely. Which is why you're getting this little piece of fic right now ;) Hopefully you love it!
> 
> I was so thrilled by the reaction to my last fic. I really can't put into words just how happy it makes me to read your comments and the little bookmark tags. You are all so very lovely to me, and it encourages me to write more, so thank you! All the love, seriously, you guys are amazing.
> 
> Please do let me know what you think! Xx.
> 
> *Title from the song by The 1975 of the same name.

 

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had, and that’s saying something.”

 

“Lou.”

 

“No.”

 

“ _Louis_.”

 

“No fucking way.”

 

“Louis, don’t make me beg. You know I don’t beg.”

 

Louis looks at his best mate in exasperation, because, it’s true, Zayn Malik does not beg. Just like Zayn Malik doesn’t exercise, or do overly-emotional displays, or get his quiff wet, or grace the world with his presence before at least half ten in the morning, or anything else that might reveal that he’s actually a mere mortal instead of the alien/android/greek god hybrid - with a perfectly symmetrical face and the most ridiculous set of cheek bones known to man - that everyone thinks he is. Honestly, Michelangelo would have had a coronary if he ever came across the likes of Zayn.

 

“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?” Zayn wonders dryly.

 

“On your knees.” Louis nods, pleased with himself.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Zayn complains, clearly already having reached the limit of his tolerance for Louis’ antics.

 

“Does it look like I’m joking? Chop chop.” Louis snaps his fingers impatiently with a coy smirk.

 

“You are the worst, you know that?” Zayn groans, sinking down to his knees with an unfair amount of grace. _Seriously, what even is he?_ He and his infuriatingly superior DNA can fuck right off, thanks.

 

“How very dare you! If this is your idea of sweet talk, then it’s no wonder you’re single.” Louis clicks his tongue disapprovingly at a very unimpressed looking Zayn.

 

“Some of us are single by choice, Lou.” Zayn smirks.

 

“That’s bloody offensive, Zayn! I’m wounded, really.” Louis sniffs indignantly.

 

“My deepest apologies. It was never my intention to offend your delicate sensibilities.” Zayn says with an exaggerated bow.

 

Louis nods approvingly, “Much better. Now, less talking, more groveling.”

 

“Please, Lou.” Zayn says, his tone flat and dispassionate like it usually is when he’s had enough of Louis’ shit, even though he’s the one asking the favor here, _thank you very much_. If _that_ is his idea of groveling, Louis seriously pities his future spouse.

 

“Damn, Malik if I’d have known how good you‘d look on your knees for me…” Louis trails off suggestively, giving his best mate a lascivious wink.

 

“Oi! You can fuck right off, you wanker. Now quit objectifying me and help me up before I revoke your friendship card, my knees weren’t bloody made for this.”

 

“Revoke my friendship card, huh?” Louis muses, absently stroking at his chin as if he’s lost in thought. “If I had known that was an option, I never would have agreed to this in the first place. Maybe I’ll just—“

 

“LOUIS!”

 

“Alright, alright!” Louis huffs. “Calm your tits, princess.” He mutters as he reaches down to help pull Zayn to his feet.

 

An arrogant, triumphant smile spreads over Zayn’s face as he stands back to his full height, eyes level with Louis’ and already glinting pompously in victory. “So you’ll do it, then?”

 

Louis huffs out one more dramatic sigh for good measure, just to be sure Zayn grasps the full scope of his exasperation.

 

“Don’t make me regret this, Malik.” He says menacingly. He intends it to come across as a threat, but if the pleased, and annoyingly un-surprised look on Zayn’s face ( _the smug bastard_ ) is anything to go by, he seems to have fallen a bit short on that account.

 

And that’s how Louis ends up agreeing to pose nude for Zayn after the usual model from his art class has to cancel on him last minute due to a family emergency. Little does he know, he’s about to get so much more than what he bargained for.

 

~

 

The next day, Friday morning, dawns bright and clear, the English sun making a rare appearance in a near cloudless sky. It’s still rather cold, being mid-December, but it’s not unbearable, and Louis decides to take it as a good omen. He’s going to need every bit of luck he can get for what Zayn has planned for them today.

 

Speaking of Zayn, Mr. Tortured Artist himself doesn’t even make an appearance until nearly noon. _Typical_. Louis, on the other hand had to be up early for his Friday morning Shakespeare lecture. By the time he makes his way back to their shared flat, he already feels in need of a kip and his day hasn’t even properly started yet. He sprawls out on their cheap, but surprisingly comfortable, Ikea sofa and flips on the telly to mindlessly watch Sky Sports until Zayn deems himself fit for public viewing and graces Louis with his presence.

 

“Afternoon, sleeping beauty.” Louis calls over his shoulder when Zayn eventually emerges from his lair of a bedroom, trudges into the kitchen, and starts his usual sleep-drunken rifle through the cupboards for something to eat. A monosyllabic grunt is his only acknowledgement of Louis’ greeting.

 

He joins Louis on the sofa a few minutes later, clutching his customary bowl of cereal. Zayn’s nothing if not predictable when it comes to his morning ( _or afternoon, more accurately_ ) routine. They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes while Zayn downs his breakfast and tilts the bowl up to sip the leftover milk. Setting his now empty bowl on the sofa table, Zayn turns to Louis and nudges him in the ribs with his elbow.

 

“Ready for today, Lou?”

 

Louis releases a long-suffering sigh, trying to nail the put-upon expression that’s always good for an eye roll from Zayn. “I mean, I guess. How does one actually prepare to pose naked for one’s best mate? Are there seminars on this subject?”

 

“Lou, all you have to do is lounge about on a sofa. That’s literally exactly what you’re doing right now, except, y’know, you’ll be starkers and I’ll be sketching you. But seriously, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll make it as painless as possible, I promise.”

 

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty, Zayn. I don’t drop trou for just anyone. This arse is a rare and precious work of art that only a very few have had the privilege of viewing.” Louis tilts his hips to the side, pushing his bum out and peering at it over his shoulder then flicks his gaze up to Zayn with a cheeky grin.

 

Zayn arches a brow at him pointedly, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Louis rolls his eyes at Zayn’s refusal to play along. Honestly, would it kill him to crack a smile every once in a blue moon? Sometimes Louis thinks his face would actually break if it made any expression other than his signature smirk and that over-the-top broody scowl thing he does that Louis loves to mock him for.

 

“So what time are we doing this, then?” Louis says around a yawn as he arches his back in a lazy stretch.

 

“I booked the studio from three to five this afternoon. It’s across campus though, so we should probably catch the bus.”

 

“Cool.” Louis nods, looking down at his phone to check the time. “Well, I’m going to have a kip until then. Wake me when it’s time to leave.”

 

Zayn gets up and gathers his empty bowl off the sofa table, throwing a peace sign over his shoulder in acknowledgement of Louis’ request as he heads towards the kitchen to deposit his bowl in the sink with the rest of their dirty dishes. Their shitty flat doesn’t have a dishwasher so they usually resort to extreme measures to decide whose turn it is to do the dishes. Louis’ fairly certain it’s his week, but fuck that, Zayn can do them if Louis is going to have to spend his Friday afternoon doing him a favor.

 

~

 

Zayn wakes him up a couple hours later, Louis feeling well rested and in a surprisingly good mood despite his nerves over their planned afternoon activity. Louis spends a few minutes in front of the mirror coaxing his fringe into his signature artfully disheveled style, because if his likeness is going to be immortalised on canvas in all his naked glory, then he’s damn well going to make sure his hair looks good.

 

At half two, they shrug on their jackets and make their way down to the bus stop. They arrive at their destination just before three. The fine arts building is a tall, statuesque piece of architecture made up of antique brick and wrapped in ivy-a work of art in its own right. It’s fairly vacant, which Louis supposes makes sense considering it’s three o’clock on a Friday; that block of the day where there’s usually a lull between morning and evening classes. They take the lift up to the top floor of the building where all the studios are, Zayn leading Louis down a corridor that’s packed with student art pieces in mediums ranging from oil paintings on canvas to sculptures housed in glass display cases to digital photographs taking up every bit of real estate on any available vertical surface ( _and some horizontal too, Louis notes amusedly as he looks up to see that the ceiling is dominated by a colorful, painted mural_ ).

 

They come to a stop in front of a door at the very end of the hall. Zayn inputs a series of numbers into an electronic keypad mounted next to the doorframe, and then there’s a heavy metallic click as the door unlocks and Zayn pushes it open. Louis steps into an open, airy loft. Natural light pours in from the large floor to ceiling windows that line the west-facing side of the room. The rest of the walls are painted a crisp, clean white that’s softened in places by some of the natural, exposed brick peeking through. Faded paint splotches decorate the worn hardwood floors that are littered with scratches and divots, most likely caused by the furniture being moved around frequently. There’s a raised, wooden platform dominating the center of the space upon which a Victorian-looking sofa sits. The sofa’s fabric is a gorgeous, deep peacock blue velvet that appears buttery soft to the touch, and Louis finds himself longing to run his fingers over it. A cluster of chairs and stands are arranged around the platform, all oriented towards the front of the sofa, so Louis assumes that’s usually where the modeling takes place. A long work surface lines the south wall, an ipod dock and set of speakers in one corner, and a deep porcelain sink in the other with everything from tubes of paint to empty palettes to canisters of brushes covering the space in between.

 

“So, this is it.” Zayn says with a shrug, the slight tremor in his voice betraying a hint of nerves like one would get when introducing a friend or significant other to one of their most cherished pastimes.

 

“Nice.” Louis says appreciatively, turning to smile at Zayn over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, nice.” Zayn echoes softly, his fingers drifting absently over the corner of his sketchpad.

 

“So how exactly do we do this? Do I just strip off right here?” Louis asks, shifting a bit nervously from foot to foot with his hands rubbing together in front of his chest.

 

“You can.” Zayn waggles his brows suggestively, and Louis can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood and put him at ease. It’s a bit of a wasted effort, but Louis appreciates the attempt none-the-less and decides to play along.

 

“You gonna put on some music for me? A stripper’s only as good as his song, y’know?” Louis winks.

 

Zayn chuckles, cuffing Louis’ shoulder as he brushes past him to go plug his phone into the ipod dock in the corner.

 

“Right.” Louis says to himself, rolling his neck and bouncing a little on the balls of his feet like he does to psych himself up before his rec league footie matches. “Fuck it.” He says with a deep breath, deciding it’s best to just rip off the plaster in one go, so to speak.

 

He shrugs off his denim jacket and starts unzipping his maroon hoodie, music filtering softly through the speakers in the background as Zayn reappears in his line of vision and begins to set up his workstation at one of the stands in front of the stage. Just as Louis is about to slide his hoodie off his shoulders, there’s some sort of ruckus from over Zayn’s shoulder in the direction of the doorway. Louis cranes his neck to investigate the source of the noise just in time to see a bloke, who might as well have been ripped straight from one of Louis’ wet dreams, stumbling over the threshold with a harried expression. He’s juggling a black rucksack and a motorbike helmet, the latter of which he promptly drops, wincing and muttering a sheepish, “Oops,” as it clatters loudly to the floor.

 

He looks like the physical embodiment of sin, dressed in black combat boots and a pair of black skinny jeans that are ripped at the knees and appear to have been surgically grafted onto his body. They make his legs look fantastic-long and lean, and Louis guesses there are more than a few envious girls out there whose self-esteem has taken a hit from bearing witness to their undeniable perfection. Underneath a worn-looking leather jacket, he’s wearing a plain white v-neck tee that is stretched so tightly across his pecs, it looks prone to tearing open at any given moment ( _which is something Louis can definitely get on board with_ ). It’s also just sheer enough to tease at the appearance of ink on the guy’s chest and torso. He pushes a pair of black wayfarers back into his artful mess of curls that are styled into a loose approximation of a quiff, and between that action, the whole bad boy biker ensemble, and his smoldering gaze, he looks like the modern reincarnation of James Dean.

 

“What the fuck, Zayn, you didn’t even lock the door? What if I would have had my dick out?” Louis complains in a whisper-shout, crossing his arms to pull his hoodie over his bare chest defensively.

 

“So sorry I’m late! You’re Zayn, yeah?” Biker boy says, hefting his ruck sack higher on his shoulder and crossing the room to where Zayn and Louis are standing in four effortless strides of his endless, stupidly gorgeous legs. Louis is absolutely not fantasizing about climbing him like a tree, because that would be inappropriate...or something. So he’s definitely not. ( _He totally is_.)

 

“Yeah, mate, that’s me.” Zayn responds casually.

 

“Cool. ‘M Harry Styles, I model for Professor Hawthorne’s classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She said you had a model leave you in the lurch, and that you were looking for someone to fill in?” He tilts the words up at the end, pitching the statement into more of a question, and Louis really shouldn’t be so endeared by that, but for all this bloke’s curls and easy charm he seems to be entirely unaware of how magnetic he is, and that is a definite turn on. “Unless you’ve already found someone else…” He trails off, throwing a meaningful glance at Louis.

 

“Right, yeah. Nice to meet you, man. This is my flat mate, Louis. I bribed him into modeling for me when Liam had some kind of emergency and had to cancel last minute.” Zayn explains easily.

 

“Oh. Well, cool. I’ll just—“ Harry thumbs over his shoulder awkwardly, inclining his head towards the door he just entered through. “I’m glad you were able to find someone, I’ll just leave you to it then.”

 

“Wait.” Zayn calls. “This is actually kind of perfect. I’ve been trying to come up with a way to make this piece stand out, it being my final project of the term and all, and I think I’ve got just the idea. What if you two posed for me together?”

 

_Wait, what?!_

 

Louis shoots Zayn a murderous glance, using his eyebrows and the set of his mouth to communicate his very strong feelings about that particular idea, because _what the fuck?_ His attempt to initiate one of the infamous nonverbal conversations that have become customary to their dynamic over the years is met with nothing but an artfully furrowed brow and a blank stare from Zayn, and _really?!_ he chooses _this_ moment to completely abandon his typically excellent lip-reading skills?

 

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” Louis says with false cheer, making his voice sugary sweet and smiling a little manically at Harry while simultaneously digging his fingernails into Zayn’s forearm.

 

Pretty boy – no, _Harry_ \- is gracious enough to bow his head to try and hide his lopsided smirk, waving his hand chivalrously. “By all means.” He drawls smoothly, clearly amused.

 

 _Fuck me_ , _that voice_ is apparently the only thought Louis’ unhelpful brain is presently capable of supplying. Well that and _hello, dimples!_ because Harry is still wearing that crooked little smirk and they’re _right fucking there_ , just begging to be admired, and maybe, like, licked too, but that’s an unhelpful and inappropriate thought to have at this moment.

 

“Cheers!” Louis throws over his shoulder along with one last lingering glance at those bloody dimples, before he drags Zayn behind the little partition that’s meant to be used as a privacy screen for the models to undress behind.

 

“Ow!” Zayn mutters emphatically, or at least as emphatically as Zayn is capable of.

 

“What the actual _fuck_ , Zayn? This was not part of the deal! You never said anything about me posing with another bloke. Not that the ghost of Mick Jagger’s youth over there isn’t mighty fit, but, well, that’s the problem, innit? How the fuck am I supposed to be all up on _that_ \- completely starkers, I’ll remind you - and not get hard?”  

 

“Lou, come on. In all seriousness, you know I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t really important to me, yeah? Just help me out here, man. Harry’s a professional, and you’ll be fine, _great_ even. I know you can do this.” Zayn is doing that thing with his eyes that Louis has seen him do a hundred times when he’s trying to pull. ( _Spoiler alert! It works every damn time_.)

 

Evidently, he’s as hopeless at resisting Zayn Malik’s charms as the rest of the human race because he heaves out a frustrated sigh and grumbles, “You are _seriously_ overestimating my self-control.”

 

“Is that a yes?” Zayn asks with that smug little crooked smirk of his that tells Louis he knows he’s already won.

 

Again, Louis sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes to really emphasize his exasperation ( _damn, he’s definitely chosen the right career path with theatre_ ).

 

“Fine.” He acquiesces. “But you’re taking me out to the pub on Sunday for the United/Liverpool match and paying for the copious amounts of beer and chips that I will require whilst watching.”

 

“Deal.” Zayn nods, looking entirely too pleased, and maybe Louis shouldn’t have given in so easily.

 

“Wait!” He says, reaching out for Zayn’s arm as he turns away. “You’re also going to write my essay for Russian Lit that’s due on Monday.” Because why Russian Literature is a requirement for a theatre degree Louis will never understand, but he knows fuck all about Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, and that shit is right up Zayn’s street.

 

“Fine. Are we good now?” Sighs Zayn with a long-suffering air that Louis graciously chooses to ignore.

 

“Draw me like one of your French girls.” Louis smirks, batting his eyelashes seductively.

 

“You’ve been waiting all day to say that, haven’t you?”

 

“Yup.” Louis grins cheekily, popping the “p.”

 

~

 

“Sooooo.” Harry drawls out expectantly once Louis and Zayn have re-emerged from behind the privacy screen. He’s using the term “privacy” pretty loosely here, because judging from the look on Harry’s face, there’s a very real possibility that he overheard every bit of the exchange that just transpired between Louis and Zayn.

 

“So.” Zayn says, addressing Harry. “Would that be something you’d be willing to do? Pose with Lou, I mean.”

 

“Um, well, I—yeah, I mean as long as he’s comfortable with doing it.” Harry stutters out, his eyes darting between Zayn and Louis like a spectator watching a tennis match.

 

Louis snorts derisively ( _because_ comfortable _is the last word you could use to describe his current state_ ) and Zayn throws a precisely aimed elbow to his ribs.

 

“Yeah, I’m good.” He manages to squeak once his breath has returned.

 

“Excellent!” Zayn grins, seemingly impervious to Louis’ murderous glare as he pointedly rubs his sore ribs.

 

Louis decides bitterly that he is going to fuck up Zayn’s bookcase later so that it’s no longer arranged alphabetically, and maybe hide his prized collection of nineties R&B albums on vinyl too. _That’ll show him_.

 

Harry nods - though he still seems vaguely unsatisfied with Louis’ assertion that he’s okay with this whole situation - and snaps his eyes from Louis back over to Zayn when he begins speaking again.

 

“I’m thinking I’ll have you do a couple different poses and I’ll sketch them all out and then decide from there which one to paint for my final project. That way we only have to do this once.” Zayn muses.

 

“Damn right, we’re only going to do this once.” Louis mutters under his breath.

 

Harry, either not hearing Louis’ grumbling or valiantly choosing to ignore it, gives Zayn a polite, accommodating smile. “So, how do you want us?” He asks.

 

“Well, naked would be a good start.” Zayn replies teasingly, like the cheeky little bastard that he is, and Louis is _definitely_ going to murder him when they get home tonight, or well, maybe after Zayn writes that essay for him and takes him out to the pub on Sunday, but after that he’s a goner for sure.

 

Harry just shrugs and raises two fingers to his temple in a salute, like stripping off with a total stranger is no big deal at all. Well, to be fair, maybe it isn’t a big deal to him, if he’s accustomed to modeling for art students in the nude and all that. He sidles over to Louis with his hands clasped behind his back and a faint blush blooming on his cheeks.

 

“Hey, are you sure this is—erm, is this okay?” He asks quietly, looking at Louis shyly through the fan of his lashes.

 

Louis, like the total idiot that he is, only manages to gape at him stupidly in response, completely stunned by how ridiculously beautiful Harry is up close.

 

Harry seems to mistake his silence as reluctance and starts babbling again. “I mean, I’m used to this, yeah? I model for art students all the time, so I pretty much have no shame when it comes to nudity, but I just really don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

 

The amount of sincerity in Harry’s eyes is staggering, and Louis is hopelessly endeared by Harry’s genuine concern for his comfort.

 

“Well I’ve got a pub lunch and a Russian Lit essay riding on this, so I’m not really in any position to say no, am I?” Louis jokes, attempting to lighten the mood.

 

Harry frowns like he’s still trying to ascertain whether or not Louis is actually okay with all of this. His insistent pursuit of Louis’ consent is as admirable as it is arousing, but ultimately unhelpful, as it’s doing nothing to aid Louis on his quest to remain unaffected by this situation.

 

“Plus, I can think of worse things than spending my afternoon naked, wrapped around a fit boy. Not like I have anything better to do.” Louis shrugs, aiming for nonchalance, with just a hint of flirtation thrown in for good measure because he has no control apparently.

 

At that, Harry’s serious façade cracks and he shoots Louis a breath-taking, slightly predatory smile, his eyes glittering with mirth.

 

“Can’t say I blame you, it’s one of my favorite pastimes as well.” Harry replies coyly.

 

_Well, shit._

 

“Are you two done flirting yet? This is an art project not a first date, the foreplay isn’t a necessary pre-requisite to taking your clothes off in this context, y’know?” Zayn informs them slyly.

 

“Fuck off, Malik. We’re the ones doing _you_ a favor here. Harold and I are just trying to get to know each other.” Louis shakes his head indignantly. _The nerve, honestly._

 

“Well, could you maybe move it along a little? I’ve only got the studio for two hours.”

 

Louis brandishes his middle finger in lieu of a verbal response to that blatant cheek, causing Harry to giggle adorably as they make their way over to the changing area. _Who even is this boy, honestly?_ For all his tough, biker boy exterior with his combat boots and nearly all-black ensemble, he giggles like a fucking Disney princess, has hair like one of those blokes on the cover of the romance novels you would find in the bargain bin at Boots, and apparently cares enough about consent that he could lead a seminar on the subject. He’s like the human equivalent of a cupcake, or something.

 

“Alright, model boy, let’s see what you’ve got.” Louis teases once he and Harry are behind the partition and away from Zayn’s prying eyes and snarky comments.

 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Harry says without missing a beat, smirking devilishly and shrugging out of his leather jacket.

 

Louis concentrates on shedding his hoodie, trying to look anywhere but at the gorgeous boy who’s stripping naked not three feet away from him. Resistance, it seems, is futile, because Louis can’t manage to tear his eyes away as Harry tugs his white t-shirt over his head by grasping the material between his shoulder blades. Louis gulps, his hands frozen on the waistband of his skinnies and his mouth gone completely dry as he drinks in every inch Harry’s broad chest, chiseled abs, and his fucking v-lines. _Holy shit_. The skin that isn’t covered by tattoos is milky pale and looks so soft Louis kind of wants to cry. Suddenly, everything is very un-funny and he can’t come up with a single witty or sarcastic remark to hide behind. He has to say something though, because he’s just bloody staring like a complete tosser, so he voices the first tame thought that pops into his head.

 

“Nice ink.” He says, trying to make it sound off-handed and casual, anything to not betray how much he’s struggling internally.

 

“Thanks.” Harry beams, preening at the compliment. “You too.” He says with a nod towards Louis’ forearms.

 

“Cheers.” Louis croaks, his mouth gone dry once again because Harry has just pushed his jeans down to reveal his tight, white Calvin Klein briefs, and _God fucking bless_ , what a glorious sight it is.

 

Louis has never considered himself to be a size queen; it’s how you use what you’ve got that’s important after all. Quality over quantity or something like that, but he’d have to be utterly daft to notice the obscenely huge bulge in the front of Harry’s tight briefs and not shiver a little bit at the thought of having something that big inside him. _And he’s not even hard_ , Louis’ brain supplies, rather unnecessarily. _Christ_ , he needs to get it together or this whole situation is going to devolve very quickly.

 

Indeed, things get very real very fast when Harry hooks a finger in the waistband of his briefs and slowly starts dragging them down over his hips. Louis is frozen in place like a statue, couldn’t bloody look away if he tried, as Harry’s briefs slip low enough to expose a thatch of dark hair, and then Louis is _dying_ because _oh sweet Jesus, Lord have mercy_ he can see Harry’s cock now and _wow, just wow_. Louis wouldn’t exactly describe himself as a slag, but he’s seen a fair amount of cock, certainly enough to know that Harry’s would be considered nice by even the pickiest of standards. He’s not only big, but he’s thick and _pretty_ too, which _how?_ Before today, Louis didn’t even know cocks could be pretty, but he’s got the undeniable proof right here in front of his eyes, so.

 

He starts squirming, desperately needing something to do with his hands. Needing to do anything, really, to distract him from the perfect male specimen standing naked in front of him. In the end, the only thing he can do is strip out of his own jeans and briefs, which he does with trembling, clumsy fingers, his heart beating out a violent, chaotic rhythm in his chest the entire time.

 

He hears Harry’s sharp intake of breath, and slowly raises his eyes from where he was staring at his own bare feet to meet his gaze.

 

“So.” Harry says bashfully, his voice gone even deeper somehow. “We’re naked.”

 

“Yup.” Louis squeaks.

 

“You okay?”

 

_No!_

 

“Yup.” Louis repeats, sounding just as unstable as he did the first time.

 

This is the last favor Louis Tomlinson is ever doing for Zayn Malik. ( _Because, after today, he’ll be dead, but that’s neither here nor there._ )

 

~

 

Louis doesn’t know how he manages to come out from behind the privacy screen and make his way onto the raised platform – forgoing the robe Harry kindly offers him because he doesn’t think he could go through the whole process of getting naked again without having a mental breakdown – but somehow he does.

 

Harry is the first one to speak, which Louis is extremely grateful for because he’s feeling slightly self-conscious and very out of his depth here.

 

“I’m just going to warn you right now, I’m probably going to get hard. I’m not used to doing this with someone else and you’re, well…yeah.” Harry finishes bashfully, making a vague sweeping motion in reference to Louis’ general person.

 

“You think that I’m… _yeah_ ,” Louis mimics the same sweeping gesture “have you seen yourself? Because you are extremely _yeah_ as well.”

 

Harry barks out a startled laugh, his eyes lighting up and that bloody dimple making another appearance.

 

“Yeah, yeah you’re both right fit, can we get on with it now?” Zayn interrupts, sounding slightly impatient as he taps his pencil against the top of his sketchpad.

 

Louis has never been more thankful for his obnoxious arsehole of a best mate, because it’s just the icebreaker he needs to snap back into sass mode where he’s much more comfortable.

 

“Oh master Malik, do forgive us. How can we go about pleasing you today?” Louis drawls out sarcastically, dipping into a low bow for effect.

 

Zayn blatantly ignores his theatrics, and moves right into director mode. “Right, um well, I’m thinking we’ll do three poses: one standing, one sitting, and one kind of lying down.”

 

 _Lying down? Oh fuck_. Louis’ brain begins spiraling into panic mode. This is going to be so much harder than he thought. ( _In more ways than one_.)

 

“So let’s start with the standing pose. Lou, if you could stand in front of the sofa, and Harry I’ll have you get behind him…”

 

They both shuffle over to the sofa, Louis awkwardly cupping his junk because he’s not really sure what else to do with it. He feels the heat coming off Harry’s body as he moves in behind him, his breath warm and tantalising on the back of Louis’ neck. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

 

“Great.” Zayn continues, completely oblivious to Louis’ inner turmoil. “Now, Harry if you could bend one of your knees and rest your shin on the sofa—yeah just like that, perfect—and then place your opposite hand on Lou’s hip.”

 

Louis shudders involuntarily when Harry complies, his long fingers curling over Louis’ hip gently.

 

“Sorry.” Harry whispers, clearly having felt Louis’ embarrassing reaction. “This alright?” He strokes his fingers softly over the jut of Louis’ hip bone, and Louis wants to scream _NO IT’S BLOODY NOT ALRIGHT, NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ALRIGHT_ but he reigns himself in and manages a weak nod instead.

 

Zayn’s voice zaps him back to reality. “Lou, could you lift your left arm up and put your hand on the back of Harry’s head?”

 

Louis tentatively obeys; trying with all his might to ignore the fact that this is the exact position they would be grinding in, had he and Harry met in a club like normal blokes. His eyes slip closed of their own accord when his fingers tangle in the silky soft curls at the nape of Harry’s neck. Harry lets out a low groan and shifts his hips forward almost infinitesimally. _Oh god_ , now Louis can feel the full outline of Harry’s cock against his arse. It’s fucking massive and yup, he’s already hard as a rock. _Shit_.

 

“Alright, Lou, now tilt your head to the right just a bit and then, Harry, turn your face into Lou’s neck like—yeah, perfect.” Zayn praises, sounding pleased. _Typical_ , Zayn is pleased and Louis is dying. Par for the course of their friendship, really.

 

Louis can feel Harry’s lips – those impossibly full, sinfully soft, utterly _obscene_ lips – on his skin, just above his pulse point, and _fuck it all to hell_ , they’re _wet_. As if that isn’t enough, one of his curls is tickling Louis’ ear and his cock is only getting harder against Louis’ arse, which _how is that even possible?!_

 

Just when Louis thinks things can’t possibly get any worse, Harry’s lips start _moving_. Initially, Louis thinks he’s trying to say something, but after a few seconds of straining to listen and hearing nothing but the soft music playing over the speakers from where Zayn’s phone is mounted on the ipod dock in the corner, Louis is hit with the realisation that Harry is _kissing_ his neck. It’s just soft, barely there pressure, like maybe Harry doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, but Louis is more than aware. In fact, he’s so bloody aware that he tilts his head further to the side to give Harry better access-a silent plea for more.

 

 _Well, shit_ , now Louis’ hard too. How could he not be?

 

Zayn, thankfully, is as oblivious as ever, furiously sketching away as his hand moves at lightning speed over the paper.

 

After what feels like an eternity of being trapped in the exquisite, agonising torture of being pressed up against Harry’s body with his lips on Louis’ neck, Zayn sets his pencil down and flips to a clean page in his sketchpad.

 

“That was brilliant, lads. You look amazing together.” He compliments them, looking pleased as punch.

 

“Cheers.” Louis mumbles weakly, not even sure if he spoke loud enough for Zayn to hear him.

 

“Let’s do the seated pose next then, yeah?” Zayn doesn’t wait for their replies before barreling onwards. “Hm, I think, Harry, let’s have you sit down on the sofa.”

 

Louis exhales a shaky breath when Harry’s lips leave his skin and he feels a rush of cold air as his body disappears from behind him and folds onto the sofa. Part of him is relieved, but another more dominant part of him is disappointed and borderline desperate to feel Harry’s hands, and lips, and yes, _cock_ , on him again.

 

“Okay good, Harry. Just lean back and spread your legs a bit, and then, Lou, I want you to sit on the floor between them and lay your head on Harry’s thigh.”

 

Louis feels like he’s slipped into some sort of trance as he goes through the motions, following Zayn’s direction blindly as he drops to the floor to get into position. He scoots himself between Harry’s spread thighs, hissing at the biting feel of the cold floorboards against his bare skin. His earlier assertion regarding Harry’s legs is confirmed as he views them up close in all their unassailable beauty. They’re easily the nicest pair of legs Louis has ever seen, let alone had the pleasure of having his head between. His slender, yet shapely thighs are pale and peachy, covered with a fine layer of soft, downy hair. They’re so smooth and perfect, like a blank canvas that Louis longs to leave his mark on. He wants to bury his face in them and rub his stubble over the soft, tender skin until it blooms a raw, gorgeous pink.

 

“Can you wrap your arm around the back of Harry’s calf?” Zayn requests, a contemplative tilt to his brows.

 

Louis does just that, tucking his feet behind him as he leans in closer and presses his cheek against Harry’s inner thigh. He subtly inhales the delicious scent of Harry’s skin, concentrated from where he’s sweating slightly behind his knees. If Louis was struggling before, he’s downright _suffering_ now, because he’s never in his life been more attracted to someone’s natural scent. It’s utterly intoxicating-deliciously manly with the undercurrent of musk, but somehow light and crisp as well, and punctuated with a third element, something totally unique that Louis can’t quite describe, but is hopelessly drawn too. His mouth floods with saliva, and he has to actively refrain from drooling like a bloody Neanderthal. Something about that scent bring his base, primal urges to the surface. _Great_ , he thinks, as if he wasn’t already having a hard enough time stopping himself from humping Harry’s leg like a rabid animal.

 

Zayn and Harry appear to have been carrying on a conversation whilst Louis was distracted with his internal monologue, because Harry is responding in the affirmative to whatever Zayn said, and sliding his fingers into Louis’ hair. Louis just barely resists the urge to purr and push his head further into Harry’s hand, and if he didn’t feel like enough of a wild animal before, he certainly does now. Harry seems determined to make that into a reality though, because he starts scratching lightly at Louis’ scalp and stroking down to the nape of his neck.

 

“Fuck.” Louis mutters, too softly for Zayn to be able to hear him.

 

Apparently not soft enough for Harry to have missed it though, because his hand stills slightly as he whispers a shaky, “Okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Louis exhales heavily as Harry resumes his gentle ministrations. “Feels lovely, actually.”

 

Louis doesn’t have to turn around and look to know that Harry is smiling, he can just sense it somehow. _God, how are they already so in tune with each other?_ It’s a bit staggering.

 

“Brilliant. Hold that, lads.” Zayn instructs.

 

Louis closes his eyes and feels his body relax for the first time since Harry walked in the door and effectively turned his world upside down.

 

~

 

Regrettably, Louis’ relaxed state is incredibly short-lived. It seems like his breathing pattern has just found it’s normal rhythm once again when Zayn’s calling time and flipping his sketchpad to a clean page.

 

Louis was right to be wary of the dreaded final pose, because as Zayn begins to describe how he wants them on the sofa, sweat starts to bead at Louis’ hairline and the nape of his neck, and he’s fucking _spiraling_. Harry must see the raw, unconcealed panic in his eyes, because he leans closer and strokes his fingers down Louis’ biceps in what’s probably meant to be a comforting manner. Louis smiles at him weakly in gratitude, but, unfortunately, all the gesture manages to accomplish is sending Louis into cardiac arrest.

 

“Okay, lads.” Zayn claps his hands together. “Lou, let’s have you kneel on the sofa with your hands on the armrest, and Harry you come in behind him and rest your forehead between his shoulder blades.”

 

Louis scrambles onto the sofa with trembling legs. When he feels Harry get into place behind him, his breath hitches and his entire body tenses up.

 

“Hey.” Harry breathes, his lips at Louis’ ear. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”

 

“No I can—I’m good.” Louis says resolutely. He’s made it this far, he’s not going to wave the white flag now. Louis Tomlinson may be many things, but he’s never been a quitter. “It’s just…erm, this is embarrassing, but—what Zayn is describing is literally my favorite position for, well…you know, and I’m probably going to get really turned on with you behind me like this.”

 

“Oh.” Harry gulps. Louis swallows automatically in sympathy, suddenly very thankful that Harry can’t see his face because he is most certainly blushing. “Well, if you’re worried about offending me or something please don’t be. I think I’ve already embarrassed myself enough with you in that department. Besides, it’s only natural to react that way, right?”

 

“Right.” Louis squeaks.

 

He’s white-knuckling the arm of the sofa, his tense fingers digging into the soft velvet in a death grip as he tries valiantly to think of anything besides Harry’s long, lean, powerful body draped over him and the dire situation that’s currently happening between his legs.

 

“Try to relax, Lou. Soft hands.” Zayn coaxes gently.

 

Louis wants to scream at him _nothing about me is soft right now, okay?!_ but as he opens his mouth to do just that, _Earned It_ by The Weeknd comes on and _seriously_ , curse Zayn Malik and his little R&B loving heart because now the very meager progress Louis has made with thinking about anything but Harry fucking him flies right out the window; all thanks to a bloody song.

 

Harry shuffles around a little behind him as he rests his forehead between Louis’ shoulder blades, their hips now perfectly aligned. Louis can feel every single one of Harry’s exhales against the bare skin of his back, the labored quality of his breathing causing a chill to race down Louis’ spine and goose bumps to erupt on his flesh. There’s no way Harry can’t feel how wildly Louis’ heart is beating in this position. Harry’s hands, which have been lax and gentle up until this point, are now digging into Louis’ hips like he is channeling all his energy into that one point of contact in an effort not to thrust forward. It doesn’t matter how tightly Harry’s gripping him though, Louis can still feel the hard line of Harry’s stiff cock pressing insistently against his arse. Another shiver wracks his body. He’s full on trembling now, and he can feel that Harry is too. A bead of perspiration drips off Harry’s brow and runs down Louis’ back to join the sweat that has collected in the dimples at the base of his spine.

 

“Hmm.” Zayn muses thoughtfully. “Harry, could you maybe put one of your hands in his hair—” Louis flinches as Harry slides his fingers into the longer tendrils at the nape of his neck, and Harry automatically gives his hip a reassuring squeeze in response. “—and pull his head back a little.”

 

“That okay?” Harry asks, tugging gently.

 

A tiny whimper slips past Louis’ lips before he can stop it as his head is drawn back, exposing the line of his throat. He nods weakly – or as best he can in this position – for Harry’s benefit.

 

“And Lou, maybe close your eyes and part your lips a bit, try to look, y’know…euphoric.” Zayn chuckles, clearly enjoying Louis’ pain.

 

 _Yeah, that’s not going to be a problem, considering I’m about two seconds away from coming_ , Louis thinks bitterly.

 

“Perfect, you two are naturals. Hold that, please.” Zayn’s voice sounds a little strained, his accent a hint thicker than normal. Curious, Louis turns his head slightly to investigate.

 

“Why, Zayn Malik, are you _blushing_?” Louis faux gasps, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

 

“Swear to God, Lou, if you start quoting _Titanic_ again…” Zayn trails off threateningly.

 

Harry giggles. Actually _giggles_. _God_ , he’s something else-all low, rumbly voice and massive hands and massive _well_ …but somehow he’s also doe eyes and nervously bitten lips and boyish giggles. _Fuck_ , Louis already feels like a goner. It’s probably appropriate – the pace his heart seems to be moving at – considering the way they met. Their whole relationship has been accelerated. He doesn’t know how Harry takes his tea or what side of the bed he prefers to sleep on, doesn’t know his favorite band or even his middle name, but he already melts into his touch like Harry’s arms are the most natural place for him to be. In turn, Harry understands how to manipulate Louis’ body and read his nonverbal cues like he’s already fluent in the language. His hands feel like they were _made_ to mold to Louis’ curves and Louis can only imagine all the other ways they might fit together seamlessly-Harry’s plush, sinful lips slotting into place between Louis’ thinner ones, their fingers tangling perfectly as their hands clutch tightly, Louis’ strong thighs locking around Harry’s narrow hips, Harry buried to the hilt inside of Louis, their bodies flush and Harry’s hands firm and insistent as they cup Louis’ arse and expertly guide their movements.

 

 _Fuck_ , Louis wants it. He’s not being dramatic at all when he thinks he might die if he doesn’t get Harry properly inside him…and _soon_. Tiny droplets of sweat are gathering at his hairline with the effort of restraining himself from just pushing back and taking what he wants; splitting himself open for Harry and swallowing him up until he can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins.

 

“ _Fuck me_.” He whispers to himself in agony, and what an ironic choice of words that is.

 

~

 

Once Zayn is satisfied with his work, he dismisses Harry and Louis with a heartfelt thank you and true excitement gleaming in his eyes. Louis knows that look, he can see how inspired Zayn is, can tell by how his fingers are twitching at his sides that he’s just itching to get a paintbrush in his hand and let his artistic side take over. Louis feels an odd sense of pride and accomplishment at being the cause of that.

 

He and Harry dress quickly, offering each other shy smiles behind the privacy screen as they tug on t-shirts and button up jeans, and somehow that act feels even more intimate than being naked together did. When they emerge from behind the partition, Zayn is furiously typing away on his mobile, his dark brows knit in concentration. Louis clears his throat to get his attention.

 

“Sorry.” Zayn mumbles, eyes still downcast towards his phone. “I was just texting my professor to see if anyone booked studio time after me. I want to stay and get started on my project as soon as possible while everything is still fresh.”

 

Louis can’t say he’s surprised. Zayn is single-minded to a fault when he gets on one of his inspiration kicks. What does surprise him, however, is when Zayn pockets his phone and looks between Harry and Louis with a mischievous glint in his amber eyes.

 

“I think we just missed the last bus of the day. Hey, Harry, do you think maybe you could give Lou a ride back to our flat? It’s a bit of a trek from here.”

 

“Yeah. Sure, no problem.” Harry scratches the back of his neck, his toes turning inwards as he looks up at Louis with a timid, hopeful expression. “Yeah that’s—I can do that…I mean, as long as you don’t mind motorbikes.”

 

“Motorbikes?” Louis stutters out, his mouth suddenly very dry because, _oh right,_ Harry drives a motorbike. That would explain the helmet from earlier.

 

“Yeah I rode my bike here. Is that going to be an issue?” Harry bites his lip nervously, shifting to clasp his hands behind his back.

 

“I mean, I’m not like _scared_ of them or anything. I’ve just never been on one before.” Louis explains.

 

“Well, I’m a very safe driver I can assure you. Got an extra helmet and everything.”

 

“What do you say, Lou?” Zayn interjects, alerting Louis to his presence. He had kind of forgotten he was still there to be honest.

 

“Yeah, I—yeah.” Louis agrees with a small nod. “A ride would be brilliant, thanks.”

 

“Good, glad that’s sorted.” Zayn smiles smugly. “Thanks again for your help today, both of you. I think this piece is going to be sick.”

 

“No problem, mate.” Harry says easily. “You’ll have to show us the final product when you’re finished.”

 

“Definitely, man. Will do.”

 

~

 

Harry’s motorbike is utterly massive and utterly terrifying. It reminds Louis a bit of the one Christian Bale has in the _Dark Knight_ films. He swallows thickly as he takes in the sleek black frame and tries not to look as intimidated as he feels.

 

“So, this is Lucille.” Harry explains, stroking his fingers lovingly across the leather seat. “My baby.”

 

A startled laugh bubbles out of Louis. “You named your big, bad motorbike _Lucille_?” He questions amusedly.

 

Harry’s lips curl into a crooked little grin as he shrugs and scuffs the toe of one of his boots on the pavement. “Yes?”

 

“That’s adorable.” Louis decides.

 

Harry lets out a little sigh of relief, a breath-taking smile replacing his shy grin. “Thanks.”

 

“So…” Louis starts, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and scrunching up his shoulders. “Shall we?”

 

Harry lifts the seat to reveal a hidden storage compartment. He pulls out a spare helmet and offers it to Louis, shoving his rucksack into the empty cavity and replacing the seat. Louis takes it gingerly, surprised by the weight of it in his hands.

 

“This is going to fuck up my hair isn’t it?” He accuses with a stormy look.

 

“Probably.” Harry concedes, laughing. “But I bet you’ll look right fit with it on.”

 

“Oh you think so?” Louis flirts, edging just a little closer to Harry so that they’re leaning towards each other from opposites sides of the motorbike.

 

Harry’s eyes bore into Louis’ with a heated intensity that makes Louis feel like he’s going to spontaneously combust. “I do.” He murmurs, his voice syrupy slow and deliciously deep.

 

“Help me with it?” Louis requests, cocking his head to the side coquettishly.

 

Harry almost trips over himself in his haste to round the bike and get to Louis. He comes to a stop just in front of him and reaches down to take the helmet from Louis’ hands, their fingers brushing in the exchange. He carefully lifts it onto Louis’ head, adjusting it with an adorably determined look on his face until it sits just right. He takes a step closer to do up the strap underneath Louis’ chin, and now Louis can smell that same intoxicating scent from earlier when he had his head on Harry’s thigh. It floods his senses like a fast-spreading poison and makes his knees feel weak with desire.

 

“ _Harry_.” He breathes, closing his eyes as Harry’s lovely, long fingers stroke under his chin and move along his jaw line. “Can we…”

 

“Oh god, yes. _Please_.” Harry moans and surges forward to close the distance between them.

 

Their lips meet in a scorching kiss; all that pent up energy and sexual tension from earlier building to the most exquisite crescendo as they both throw themselves into it with reckless abandon. As sinful as Harry’s mouth looks, it’s nothing compared to how it _feels_. Louis’ head spins as Harry bites and sucks relentlessly at his lips, thrusting his tongue into Louis’ mouth with a dizzying combination of practiced skill and blind, unadulterated lust. Harry makes to put his hands in Louis’ hair, but grunts in frustration when the helmet gets in his way. He hurriedly, but gently, lifts it off Louis’ head and dives back in with a feral growl that makes Louis’ belly clench. _Holy shit._

 

“Been thinking about this since the moment you walked in that studio.” Louis confesses breathlessly.

 

“Tell me about it.” Harry pants, his lips moving hungrily over Louis’ jaw. “You looked so goddamn fuckable bent over the sofa like that, I could hardly contain myself. You’re so gorgeous. And your arse…” He trails off with a groan as he reaches around to cup Louis’ bum in his big hands.

 

“Shit.” Louis curses. “Please tell me you live close.”

 

“Yeah, I—fuck…yeah.” Harry nods fervently, bending down to retrieve the discarded helmet from the pavement and offer it to Louis.

 

He helps him put it on once more, their eyes never leaving each other’s as he fastens the chin strap and lets his hand trail down Louis’ throat. He runs a teasing finger over Louis’ collarbones, softly stroking their delicate framework.

 

“I want to trace these with my tongue.” He admits lowly.

 

“ _Please_.” Louis whimpers, pushing further into Harry’s tantalising touch. “Fuck, Harry. C’mon.” Louis pleads, tugging him towards the motorbike.

 

“Yeah, baby, let’s get you back to mine. Gonna have my way with you.”

 

Those words awaken something primal deep inside Louis, and he shivers with anticipation at the thought of giving himself over to Harry completely and just letting Harry use him for his own pleasure.

 

“I’ll let you do whatever the fuck you want.” Louis promises. “Just— _hurry_.”

 

That seems to be all the motivation Harry needs to get his arse in gear, because he’s whipping his own helmet on and climbing on the bike without another word. He starts it up a moment later, the deafening rumble of the engine vibrating in Louis’ chest and sending adrenaline pumping through his veins.

 

Harry pats the space on the seat behind him seductively and revs the engine with a cheeky waggle of his brows. Louis’ cheeks ache with the force of his answering smile as he moves to climb on. He has to stand on his tiptoes in order to swing his leg over, while Harry’s feet rest flat on the pavement. _Bloody giant_.

 

“Put your arms around my waist.” Harry shouts over the roar of the engine.

 

Louis hurries to comply, scooting himself closer to Harry until he’s plastered to his back. He lets out a little moan as his semi presses against the curve of Harry’s bum, tightening his arms around his narrow waist reflexively.

 

“Ready?” Harry calls, patting where Louis’ hands are interlocked over his abs.

 

Louis nods against Harry’s back in answer, grinning into the soft, buttery leather of Harry’s jacket. Harry squeezes his wrist, and Louis moves to hook his chin over the broad sweep of Harry’s shoulder as they pull away from the curb.

 

~

 

They make it to Harry’s flat in what Louis assumes is record time if the pleased look on Harry’s face is anything to go by. He kills the engine and dismounts the bike, tugging off his helmet as he goes. Louis removes his own helmet as Harry saunters closer, his lip bitten between his teeth. He takes the helmet from Louis’ hands, placing both of them on the back of the bike behind Louis before turning back around and putting his hands on Louis’ hips. His fingers ruck up Louis’ hoodie, greedily seeking out bare skin as he leans forward until their mouths are mere centimetres apart.

 

“Do you have any fucking idea how good you look on my bike?” He growls.

 

“Shame you don’t have an underground car park. I’d let you fuck me right here on the back of it.” Louis whispers boldly.

 

Harry drops his head to Louis’ shoulder with a pained groan. “ _Christ, Louis_. You can’t just say things like that!”

 

Before Louis can respond, he’s being lifted off the bike. He yelps in surprise and wraps his legs tightly around Harry’s waist.

 

Harry’s voice is gravelly and thick with arousal when he speaks, his lips at Louis’ ear now. “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?”

 

“Why don’t you take me inside and show me?” Louis challenges.

 

Harry releases his grip on Louis’ thighs slowly, letting him slip down the front of his body until his feet are back on the ground, then grabs his hand and leads him towards the entrance to his building with quick, determined steps.

 

“My flat’s on the third floor.” Harry explains as they wait for the lift, keeping a respectable distance between them, though their hands remain clasped.

 

The lift dings as the doors slide open revealing it to be blessedly empty, and Louis doesn’t waste any time before pushing Harry inside and crowding him up against one of the mirrored walls.

 

“Fuck, want your hands on me.” Louis moans.

 

Harry easily flips their positions so that Louis is the one with his back pressed against the wall and starts groping at Louis’ thighs and bum. Louis knocks his head back against the cold metal when Harry gives him a particularly rough squeeze.

 

“God, Lou. Your arse.” Harry whines, his lips slipping all over Louis’ neck with absolutely no finesse. It feels fucking incredible.

 

They spring apart as the doors open to reveal Harry’s floor. He reaches for Louis’ hand once again and tugs him down the corridor to the left. They start kissing before they even make it halfway to Harry’s flat, tripping over themselves and pulling at each other’s clothes.

 

When they finally reach the end of the corridor, Harry deftly unlocks and opens the door to his flat with minimal interruption to their snogging, which is seriously impressive considering how hard they’re going at it. They stumble across the threshold in a wild mess of tangled limbs and frantic hands, Louis chasing Harry’s lips feverishly as he moves backwards deeper into the flat. Harry pins him to the wall that separates the small foyer from the kitchen and lounge, his mouth hot and insistent as he moves from Louis’ jaw down to his neck.

 

“Shit, babe, neck stuff always gets me so hard.” Louis pants, craning his head to the side to give Harry more room to work.

 

“Baby,” Harry drawls “I’ve been hard for you for the past two hours. All I can think about is getting you naked again and bending you over the sofa.”

 

“Fucking shit.” Louis hisses through gritted teeth as Harry mercilessly sucks a love bite into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “You gonna fuck me from behind with that massive dick of yours? Gonna give it to me hard just the way I like? C’mon, Styles, it’s yours. Just take it.”

 

With that, Harry lifts Louis up and starts grinding him into the wall, the movements of his hips frenzied and relentless as he chases the friction they both desperately crave. Together they manage to rid each other of their jackets and Harry of his white t-shirt, but Louis remains in his maroon hoodie as Harry tightens his grip on his thighs and carries him into the lounge.

 

They barely make it to the sofa, and once they’re there, Harry has to physically pry Louis off him ( _while Louis whines in protest_ ) in order to go grab supplies from his bedroom.

 

When he returns, he deposits a handful of condoms and the lube onto the sofa table then moves to straddle Louis’ hips where he’s lying on his back on the sofa. His hands are shaking as he slowly unzips Louis’ hoodie inch by tantalising inch, his mouth hungrily claiming each expanse of newly exposed flesh as it’s revealed. Once it’s fully unzipped, Louis flexes his abs, sitting up so Harry can push it off his shoulders.

 

With Louis spread out and naked from the waist up beneath him, Harry makes good on his earlier promise, and leans down to trace Louis’ collarbones with his tongue. After a few minutes of slow, delicious torture that has Louis writhing and sweating, he moves lower. He kisses down Louis’ chest then back up to his neck again while his nails scrape gently through the light smattering of auburn hair between Louis’ pecs.

 

“So hot.” He murmurs into the hollow beneath Louis’ ear lobe, the vibration of his voice sending a current of electricity all throughout Louis’ already trembling body.

 

“Why are we still wearing clothes right now?” Louis complains.

 

“No fucking idea.” Harry shakes his head vehemently, his hands already trailing down to the waistband of Louis’ jeans.

 

He makes quick work of the button and zip of Louis’ skinnies, crawling down his body as he pulls the tight material - along with his briefs - towards Louis’ ankles and then removes his shoes for him so Louis can kick them off. Louis is left naked and panting as Harry climbs off the sofa to toe off his boots and strip out of his own tight, black skinnies. His briefs get tangled up in his jeans when he pulls them down, leaving him naked and hard in all his glory. Louis’ eyes rake over his body feverishly, but he can’t find a single point to focus on. He’s so frustratingly beautiful that there’s not one comfortable place for Louis to rest his gaze. His eyes flit from feature to feature, trying to commit every square inch of Harry’s body to memory. _God_ , he’s like the literal definition of perfection, everything about him seems like it was calibrated to fit Louis’ taste and crafted to his exact specifications. If he were asked to describe his dream guy, it would be Harry down to the very last detail.

 

“So fucking gorgeous, Harry.” He says reverently, sitting up on his elbows for a better view.

 

“Me? God, you should see yourself, Lou. You’re bloody perfect. Fuck, I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you like this.”

 

“Trust me, love, the feeling is very mutual.”

 

“Will you kneel over the edge of the sofa for me so I can open you up like that?” Harry asks, a shy lilt to his voice that makes Louis’ lips tingle and his fingertips burn with the urge to taste and touch and kiss away every tiny thread of doubt or insecurity that Harry could possibly be feeling.

 

“Absolutely, love. Can’t wait to feel your fingers in me, they’re so long and lovely, bet they’re gonna feel amazing.”

 

Louis sits up fully, swinging his legs over the edge of the sofa until his feet touch the floor, then stands up and makes his way past Harry to fold himself over the armrest. Harry hands him a pillow to rest his forearms on so that they’re elevated to the same level as his torso. Louis accepts it with a quiet _thanks, babe_ and leans up for a kiss. When they break apart, Harry’s groin is right at Louis’ eye level, and he can’t help but appreciate the sight. His cock is flushed and so deliciously hard, steadily leaking pre-come down the length of his shaft, and Louis feels a shiver of pride and anticipation knowing that it’s all for him.

 

Harry grabs the lube off the sofa table and goes to kneel behind Louis. He hears the unmistakable snick of the cap and the squelch of the tube as Harry slicks up his fingers.

 

He gently taps Louis’ inner thighs with his clean hand. “Could you spread your legs a bit wider for me, babe?”

 

Louis quickly complies, sucking in a deep breath when Harry’s hand strokes up the back of one of his thighs in appreciation. It’s a little disorienting not being able to see Harry at all from his position bent over the sofa. Louis feels a bit like he’s flying blind, but something about being spread out and completely at Harry’s mercy makes him feel hot and desperate in the best possible way. Instead of feeling nervous and vulnerable like he normally would being laid bare like this in front of someone he’s only known for a few hours, Louis feels an inexplicable sense of calm. He comes to the startling realisation that what he’s feeling is trust. He _trusts_ Harry to take care of him, and as such, he’s okay with being on display like this.

 

The next thing he feels is Harry’s warm breath ghosting over the swell of his arse. His glutes tighten reflexively in response, a knee-jerk reaction to the knowledge that Harry’s lush mouth is in close proximity to such an intimate part of his anatomy. Soft, damp lips brush over his skin as Harry presses reverent kisses all over his cheeks, reaching between them to pet at Louis’ hole as he does. With his mouth, he blazes a hot trail of kisses over the curve of Louis’ bum all the way up to the base of his spine. He nuzzles the prominent dimples that reside there, his long eyelashes fluttering softly against Louis’ skin.

 

“Ready?” He breathes quietly.

 

“Please.” Louis nods even though Harry can’t see him.

 

Harry runs his knuckles along either side of the incredibly sensitive ridge of skin that stretches from Louis’ balls to his hole. The touch is feather light and teasing, but it sends a massive jolt of pleasure throughout Louis’ entire body. Harry moves to circle his rim, stroking at the taut skin for a few seconds as if warming it up to his touch before pressing one lube slick finger halfway inside.

 

Louis lets out a deep, guttural moan in response, his body sighing at the contact after craving stimulation for so long. Unfortunately, Harry misreads the tone of it, and withdraws his finger as if Louis groaned in pain.

 

“Did I hurt you?” He questions worriedly.

 

The concern in his voice is clear, and it’s so endearing to hear how much Harry cares about his comfort. He’s already such a thorough, devoted lover, and they’ve barely gotten started. Louis’ heart swells with fondness and his whole body seems to ache for the pleasure that’s awaiting him.

 

“Not at all. God, Harry, you have no idea how good it feels already. I don’t know if I can take it. Please, _please_ keep going.”

 

Seemingly content with Louis’ answer, Harry slides his finger back inside and quickly works up to two, and eventually three. He’s alternating between thrusting deep then curling his fingers and twisting and stroking at Louis’ walls in a way that’s slowly driving Louis to the brink of insanity. Just when he thinks it can’t get any more deliciously maddening, Harry pulls the rug right out from under him with a few simple words.

 

“Can I?” He asks tentatively “With my mouth?”

 

Louis swoons all over again, remembering from earlier how conscientious Harry is when it comes to consent. In all honesty, there isn’t much that will get Louis hotter than knowing his partner is someone so thoughtful and attentive. At his very enthusiastic _yes_ , Harry scissors two of his fingers and pushes his tongue into the space between them. He leans in closer until his lips are pressed firmly against his knuckles and his tongue is buried as deep as it can possibly go inside Louis’ arse.

 

“ _Christ_.” Louis grits out, his hands grappling for purchase on the sofa cushions in front of him. “Fuck, Harry!”

 

Harry moans his approval at Louis’ reaction, his lips vibrating against Louis’ rim and turning him into a gasping, whimpering mess as he curses incoherently and babbles out nonsense, so overwhelmed by the sensation.

 

“Fuck! Oh, god, _Harry_ —more please.”

 

Harry pulls back, removing his tongue but keeping his fingers in place and pumping them in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. “Yeah, baby. You gonna come on my tongue before I even fuck you?”

 

Louis thrashes his head from side to side, smearing sweat from his temples all over his forearms as Harry dives back in, flicking his tongue around Louis’ rim with teasing little kitten licks. Louis’ legs start shaking violently as he’s pushed closer and closer to the edge.

 

“No, Harry, please…need to—wanna come on your cock.”

 

Harry moans enthusiastically, leaning back to speak yet again. “Whatever you want, Lou. Just ask and it’s yours.”

 

“Fuck me. Please, Harry, fuck me.”

 

“Shh,” Harry soothes, withdrawing his fingers and reverently stroking along the curve of Louis’ arse in a placating manner. “I’ve got you, Lou. Gonna take such good care of you, baby.” He places a final chaste kiss right to Louis’ hole. “Be right back, love. Just gonna grab a condom.”

 

“Here, let me.” Louis insists, reaching for one of the foil packets Harry had deposited on the sofa table earlier as an idea takes shape in his head. He turns to look at Harry over his shoulder with a devilish smirk. “Wanna see a party trick?”

 

Harry nods, swallowing thickly as his eyes dart between Louis’ face and his hands while he rips the packet open and pulls out the condom. He turns his body all the way around to face Harry and instructs him to stand up so Louis is on his knees in front of him. Louis places the little rubber circle between his lips and deliberately maintains eye contact with Harry as he leans forwards and slides the condom onto his length using only his mouth, not stopping until he’s reached the base of Harry’s cock.

 

“ _Fuck_.” Harry curses loudly as Louis essentially deep throats him. “Bloody hell. I really hope you don’t actually do that at parties, like in front of an audience.”

 

Louis pulls off with a pop, gazing up at Harry with a self-satisfied grin. “Aw, would that make you jealous, Styles?”

 

“Insanely.”

 

Louis tsks at him. “Jealousy is a petty emotion, y’know? Not a good look on you. Major turnoff, that.”

 

Harry drops to his knees and reaches for Louis’ hard cock, stroking him nice and slow. “Mm, _this_ says otherwise.”

 

Louis sinks his teeth into his lower lip to try and hide how desperately he’s panting. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple. “You’re right, I’m a liar. The thought of you getting into a fight over me is really fucking hot.”

 

“Violence is never the answer, Louis.” Harry chastises jokingly, “Don’t let the leather jacket and the motorbike fool you, I’m actually a pacifist. Thinking about joining the Peace Corps, as a matter of fact.” He says, finishing his statement with a nonchalant little shrug.

 

“Oh god, that’s somehow even hotter. I just pictured you in some third world country building water filtration systems and teaching primary school kids to read. _Fuck_.”

 

Harry barks out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Whatever gets you going, baby.”

 

They lean forward at the same time and meet in the middle for a kiss, their teeth clacking as they both fight to control the elated smiles splitting their faces.

 

“Ready to feel you now, Harry. Please.” Louis whispers against Harry’s swollen, glistening lips.

 

“Yes, baby. Gonna give you exactly what you need. Can you bend over the armrest for me again?”

 

“However you want me.” Louis consents, pulling away after one last peck to Harry’s addictive lips.

 

He stands back up on wobbly legs, folding himself over the sofa once more and arching his back to give Harry the best possible view of his arse. He smiles to himself in smug satisfaction when he hears Harry groan and hastily scramble to his feet to get into position behind him. He reaches out to squeeze Louis’ hip to let him know that he’s there and pauses with the head of his cock poised at Louis’ entrance in silent question. Louis pushes back wantonly, more than ready to lose himself in the pleasure of having Harry inside him.

 

Harry edges in just enough that the head of his cock pops past Louis’ rim, but doesn’t go any further. He leans forward and drapes himself over Louis’ back until his mouth is right behind his ear, his lips brushing teasingly over the shell of it. “You gonna be loud for me, Lou? Want you to be. Want you to scream for me.”

 

“Fuck.” Louis pants heavily, his whole body set ablaze by Harry’s words. “I’m going to be so loud for you, babe. The whole building’s gonna know that you’re fucking me.”

 

Harry swears under his breath as he straightens back up and pushes the rest of the way inside in one smooth glide.

 

“ _Oh fuck!_ Motherfucking shit. _Louis_. You feel like heaven.”

 

“ _More_.” Louis whines, his brain function severely diminished as his mental faculties are overwhelmed with pure ecstasy. “More, Harry. _Please, please, please_.”

 

Harry starts fucking him in earnest then, Louis’ cock rubbing against the armrest with every snap of Harry’s hips. After a few minutes, Harry’s thrusts start to grow erratic and sloppy like he’s already about to come, but then he lets out a grunt in frustration that causes Louis to rethink that assumption.

 

Louis’ brows pull together in concern as he turns to look at Harry over his shoulder. “What’s wrong, babe?”

 

“Fuck, ‘m sorry. It’s just, I can’t get the angle right in this position. The sofa’s too low.” Harry admits sheepishly, an embarrassed flush coloring the high points of his cheeks.

 

“No worries, love. We can try another position. I want this to be as good for you as it is for me, because bad angle or not, what you were doing felt fucking amazing.”

 

“You sure?” Harry bites his lip nervously.

 

“Yeah. It’s not a problem, babe, really. I’ll take you however I can get you.”

 

A genuine smile lights up Harry’s face as he nods, the little flicker of insecurity fading from his eyes. He walks around the front of the sofa and climbs on to kneel so he’s facing Louis.

 

“What about like this with you on my lap and your back to my chest?” Harry suggests.

 

“Yeah.” Louis gulps at the visual his brain conjures up to coincide with Harry’s words. “I’ve never done it like that before, but I’d love to try.”

 

Harry seems pleased by Louis’ response and his willingness to try new things. Louis is pretty pleased himself; he gets a satisfying little thrill at the idea of giving himself to Harry in a way no one else has ever had him before.

 

“C’mere then, gorgeous.” Harry beckons, curling his finger playfully at Louis.

 

Louis climbs over the armrest and crawls across the cushions to Harry, turning around and spreading his legs so Harry can manipulate him into position the way he wants. He covers Louis’ hips with his hands, his fingers curling around to caress the soft skin of Louis’ belly as he guides him down backwards onto his lap. He stops when the head of his cock snubs against Louis’ hole, taking one of his hands away from Louis’ hip to grip himself firmly at the base and slowly push inside as Louis sinks back to meet him halfway. By the time Harry’s entire length is sheathed inside of him, Louis is sitting atop Harry’s thighs with his own legs spread wide and his shins flat on the sofa, bracketing Harry’s.

 

“Shit.” He gasps with a breathy moan. “You’re so fucking big. Feel so _full_ , it’s almost like I can’t breathe.”

 

“ _Baby_.” Harry whines.

 

Thanks to their considerable height difference, Louis can lean back against Harry’s chest and rest his head on his shoulder perfectly. This position also gives Harry uninhibited access to any part of Louis’ body he should want to touch. He strokes his hands up and down Louis’ thighs and nuzzles at his jaw until Louis gets the message and tilts his head to the side so Harry can kiss and suck at his neck, giving them both a moment to adjust to the way their bodies are joined.

 

“You feel _so_ good.” Harry praises, kissing up Louis’ neck to seize his earlobe between his teeth.

 

They’re not even facing each other, but there’s something about this position that feels so terribly intimate. Maybe it’s the way they are pressed together with not a centimetre of space between them, or maybe it’s the way Harry’s cock is buried so unbelievably deep inside of him. Whatever the reason, it feels like Harry is everywhere at once. It’s hot and sensual, and Louis absolutely loves it.

 

When Harry starts moving, it only takes the shallowest of thrusts for him to nudge up against Louis’ prostate. Louis wails and arches his back, clutching desperately at Harry’s hands on his thighs in order to ground himself. Spurred on by Louis’ reaction, Harry starts fucking him in earnest, Louis practically bouncing on his lap with the force of his thrusts. He sobs as Harry pounds into him relentlessly, nailing his prostate over and over again until the waves of pleasure build to a towering swell and Louis knows he’s about to be pulled under.

 

“Harry, _Harry_ —fuck…I’m gonna come.”

 

“ _Fuck yeah_ , Lou. Give it up for me, baby. I want you to” Harry pants, his rhythm not faltering for a second.

 

“Oh god oh god oh god. _F-fuck!_ ” Louis shouts as he falls over the edge and comes just like that, completely untouched.

 

Caught up as he is in a post-orgasmic stupor, Louis doesn’t have the presence of mind to understand what Harry’s doing when he lifts Louis up by the hips and slips out of him, his cock still fully hard. When his sex-addled brain finally catches up, he turns his head to look at Harry in confusion.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Gonna give you a little break then I’m going to make you come again.” Harry says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Think you can do that, baby? Get it up for me again and come for me twice?”

 

_Fuck, this boy is going to be the death of him._

 

“Yeah.” Louis nods confidently. He knows Harry can get him there, and if his second orgasm is even half as good as his first, it will be more than worth it. Plus, he really, _really_ wants to see Harry come as well. “Yeah I can, just give me a minute.”

 

“Good. Lie down for me, love. Just relax.” Harry guides Louis onto his back then quickly straddles his thighs, gazing down at him with wonder in his clear, green eyes-the color a dazzling, molten emerald.

 

Louis smiles up at Harry, then squeezes his eyes shut to concentrate on calming his erratic breathing. His eyes snap open a few minutes later when he feels the warm, wet heat of Harry’s mouth wrap around the head of his spent cock. He flinches violently at the overstimulation, squirming under Harry’s touch.

 

“Too sensitive? Want me to stop?” Harry breathes, nuzzling into the crease of his groin and placing soft, gentle kisses there.

 

“No, keep going. I can push past it.” Louis says determinedly.

 

Harry locks eyes with him as he kisses up his shaft and swirls his tongue around the head, pressing into his slit.

 

“ _Fuck_ , hold me down.” Louis grits out, feeling like his head is going to explode from the pleasure and the overstimulation as his cock starts to stiffen up again.

 

“You sure?” Harry questions.

 

“I’m sure… _please_ , Harry.” Louis begs, beyond the point of caring about how wrecked and desperate he sounds.

 

Harry pins him down with his strong hands, his nails biting into the soft flesh of Louis’ hips and leaving behind little white crescent moons in his otherwise golden skin. He brings him back to full hardness with his clever tongue and velvet dream of a mouth, then pulls off with an audible pop that rings out staccato in the quiet flat.

 

“You ready, Lou?” He queries as he makes to get back in the same position as they were in earlier.

 

“Uh uh, Styles.” Louis chastises, shaking his finger playfully at Harry as he sits up and pushes at his chest. “This time, I’m going to ride you. You just lie back and look pretty. Let me do all the work, yeah? You’ve fucking earned it, babe.”

 

“ _Yes_.” Harry moans. “Oh, god, please. Wanna get you on top and see the way you move for me.”

 

“Lie back, love.” Louis coaxes gently.

 

Harry quickly heeds Louis’ instruction, making himself comfortable on his back with his hands fidgeting restlessly at his sides in anticipation. Louis crawls forward and plants his shins firmly on either side of Harry’s body to straddle his hips. Harry’s cock looks painfully hard at this point. It’s flushed a dark rose color and if it weren’t for the condom, he’d probably be leaking pretty profusely against his belly. Louis decides to take pity on him and forgo any sort of teasing. He reaches back to line himself up, and sinks down as quickly as he can manage. As soon as he’s accustomed to the feel of Harry so deep inside him once again, he starts moving. He begins by rotating his hips in slow circles, and from there he moves on to shallow grinds before finally using the strength of his thighs to lift himself up and sink back down. Harry moans loudly through all of it, his brows furrowed and his mouth frozen open in ecstasy.

 

“Fuck, Lou. You look so good like this, taking my cock so well.” He praises once he regains the ability to speak.

 

Louis continues to work his hips tirelessly for a few minutes, moaning at the sensation of being completely split open on Harry’s cock. He can feel his own pleasure starting to build once more, a sharp tug just behind his navel that grows more insistent by the minute. His thighs start to tremble, a tell-tale sign that’s he’s close, so he decides to help Harry along. He leans forward and runs his hands down Harry’s sweaty chest, teasing over the dark pink buds of his nipples. Harry whines and throws an arm over his face, biting down hard on his own bicep, which is really fucking hot.

 

“Yeah? You like that, baby? Want me to play with your nipples?”

 

Harry nods frantically, his face still buried in the crook of his own arm. Louis smirks to himself as he begins to roll each of Harry’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger, the action drawing gorgeous, desperate moans from his lips as he arches into Louis’ touch. Harry shifts his hips and starts fucking up into Louis’ arse as Louis pulls harder at the now swollen, sensitive buds.

 

When it appears he has reached his limit, Harry removes his arm from over his face and looks up at Louis with wild, lust-blown eyes.

 

“Touch yourself.” He commands.

 

Louis rushes to comply, moving one hand to his dick and hissing a little when he wraps it around himself and starts stroking; still feeling a touch sensitive. The slight overstimulation quickly dissolves into mind-numbing pleasure when he shifts his position and the head of Harry’s cock rubs over his prostate. He rolls his shoulders, dropping his head back as he arches his back and moans.

 

“That’s it.” Harry encourages “Work that arse for me, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock. You look like a fucking dream, Lou. So goddamn sexy.”

 

“Fuck— _Harry_ —fuck!”

 

“Yeah? You gonna come? I’m fucking ready, Lou. Come with me.”

 

Louis clenches hard around Harry’s cock as he feels it start to twitch inside him, and then they’re both coming simultaneously with the most earth-shattering orgasm Louis has ever experienced.

 

He collapses, panting, against Harry’s chest, completely and utterly spent.

 

“Holy shit.” He mutters weakly.

 

“Indeed.” Harry agrees breathlessly.

 

~

 

Twenty minutes later, they still haven’t moved save for Harry pulling out of Louis to remove the condom and grabbing some tissues off the sofa table to clean them up. Louis is lying directly on top of Harry, his head on his chest and their legs tangled together. Harry is humming under his breath and absently playing with Louis’ fingers. It’s lovely, so very lovely, that is until Louis’ stomach growls loudly.

 

“ _Ughh_ , sorry.” He groans, burying his face in Harry’s chest in embarrassment. “I’m bloody starving. Was too nervous to eat earlier today.”

 

Harry chuckles softly, lacing their fingers together. “Don’t worry about it, Lou. I’m hungry too. Wanna order pizza?”

 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

 

“I thought you liked me for my dick.” Harry teases, lifting his hips to rub his soft cock against Louis’ stomach.

 

Louis squeezes his hip playfully. “I like you because you’re sweet and lovely and you make me laugh. And yes, you also happen to have a very nice dick.”

 

Harry cackles, his chest vibrating beneath Louis with the force of it. He releases Louis’ hand to inch the tip of his index finger under Louis’ chin and tilt his face up so they can look at each other properly.

 

Harry’s eyes are so heart-wrenchingly soft, their color a pale almost mint green as he whispers, “I like you too.”

 

~

 

They snog lazily to pass the time and distract themselves from their empty stomachs while they wait for the pizza to arrive. Just when things are starting to get a little heated, there’s a cheerful knock at the door of Harry’s flat. Louis would be annoyed at the interruption if he wasn’t so fucking hungry.

 

Harry carefully flips their positions so Louis is trapped underneath him, leaning down to tug his lower lip gently between his teeth in a parting gesture then releases it with a grin and rolls off to search through the discarded mess of their clothing for something to wear. He pulls on his white briefs but nothing else, his cock – half-hard from their snogging – tenting the material slightly. He responds to Louis’ scandalised gasp with a wink over his shoulder as he saunters off to answer the door. Shaking his head amusedly, Louis hastily pulls a pillow across his lap to cover himself when he hears Harry opens the door, just in case.

 

“Hey Haz.” The delivery boy says casually, completely un-phased by Harry’s state of undress, and okay, if they’re on a first name basis then he probably knows Harry well enough to be aware of his penchant for nudity.

 

 _But wait a minute_ , Louis recognizes that voice. The lilting Irish accent is a dead giveaway. That’s Niall, Louis’ friend from his rec league footie team. As if to confirm Louis’ theory, Niall’s unmistakable bleached blonde head pops around the corner as he sets the pizza box down on the little table Harry has next to his front door. And that’s when he catches sight of Louis, lounging naked on the sofa with just a pillow covering his bits.

 

“Louis?” He exclaims dubiously, obviously startled by his presence in Harry’s flat.

 

“Hey mate.” Louis says as nonchalantly as he can manage with the way his cheeks are burning. It feels like half of England has seen him naked today. ( _In reality he knows it's only been three people, but still._ )

 

Niall’s bright blue eyes are as wide as saucers, and Louis can practically see the gears in his head turning as he tries to make sense of the situation he stumbled into. Something must click into place in his brain, because a few seconds later, a slow, knowing smirk spreads over his face.

 

“Wait a minute. You two…” He trails off, his hands flapping animatedly between Harry and Louis in a gesture that’s vaguely crude, but otherwise indecipherable. “Shit, I’ve got to text Liam!” He squeals excitedly.

 

“Liam?” Louis arches a brow in confusion.

 

“Liam. The model who was supposed to pose for Zayn this afternoon, but had to cancel because of an emergency.” Harry explains patiently. “We’re all studying music and have a couple courses together,” One of his big hands moves in a circular motion, encompassing himself and Niall, and this Liam character too, apparently. “Those two are always giving me a hard time. They’ve been on my arse for months about putting myself out there and dating more.”

 

Harry’s cheeks flush a gorgeous, deep crimson at the end of his explanation, and Louis is so stupidly endeared that he just stares at Harry with a dopey, fond expression until Niall’s voice snaps him back to reality.

 

“Hate to break it to you, mate, but Liam’s ‘emergency’” Niall pauses to make air quotes with his fingers “was him going to a party last night and knowing he'd be too hung over to function today. Also, he promised me a rematch at FIFA.”

 

“Zayn’s going to be so pissed when he finds out.” Louis chuckles darkly, already picturing his best mate’s stormy expression. On second thought, if it weren’t for Liam’s so called ‘emergency’ Louis and Harry never would have met today. Just the thought causes him to shudder and he quickly changes tactics. “Actually, you know what, Curly, I think we owe Liam a pint or two. Don’t you agree?” Louis winks at Harry.

 

Harry shoots him a devastating smile in response. _Fuck, he’s so goddamn gorgeous_.

 

Niall looks between them with his brows furrowed in bewilderment, a question plain in his eyes. He begins to open his mouth to speak, but Harry cuts him off.

 

“Long story.” He says simply, not taking his eyes off Louis. “Thanks for the pizza, Nialler.” Harry says as he shoves a couple notes into the pocket of Niall’s jacket and starts pushing him back towards the door.

 

“Thanks, Niall!” Louis waves.

 

“Use protection!” Niall calls over his shoulder as he disappears from Louis’ view.

 

“Goodbye, Niall!” Harry says firmly, but amusedly, as he shuts the door. “Sorry about that.” He says sheepishly, grabbing the pizza box off the table and making his way back over to Louis on the sofa.

 

“No need to apologise, babe. I’m friends with him too.” Louis chuckles.

 

“Right.” Harry nods, smiling to himself as he settles back down next to Louis, balancing the box on his knees. “Small world, innit?”

 

Louis hums his agreement, beaming up at Harry like a lovesick fool.

 

Together, they polish off the entire pizza plus a couple beers Harry brings in from the kitchen. Both full to the point of bursting and utterly knackered from their previous activities, they snuggle up under a blanket as Harry grabs the remote to turn on the telly.

 

“We’re gonna Netflix and chill now are we, Curly?” Louis ribs playfully, reaching over to tug on one of Harry’s ringlets.

 

“We are indeed.” Harry confirms with a nod and a shy smile.

 

“Well, bring it in then. Let’s have a proper cuddle.” Louis holds his arms open expectantly, spreading his thighs so Harry can fit between them.

 

Harry giggles boyishly and slots himself between Louis’ legs, leaning back against his chest with a content little sound when Louis slides his fingers into Harry’s hair.

 

“That feels lovely.” Harry purrs, arching into Louis’ touch.

 

“Mm.” Louis hums “So what are we watching, babe?”

 

“Whatever you want.” Harry says, scrolling mindlessly through the Netflix home screen “I’ve been re-watching _Sherlock_ lately.”

 

“What series are you on?”

 

“Just finished the second.”

 

“Brilliant, I love the third series, and I’m too knackered to pay attention to something I haven’t seen before. Let’s watch from where you left off.”

 

“ ‘Kay.” Harry mumbles, sounding sleepy but pleased as he starts up _The Empty Hearse_ and relaxes further into Louis’ arms.

 

~

 

“I don’t know what everyone’s on about, I think John looks fit with that mustache.” Harry comments offhandedly a few minutes into the episode.

 

“You think John’s hot? Have you _seen_ Sherlock?” Louis gasps, affronted.

 

“Guess I’ve got a bit of a thing for the small, sassy ones.” Harry smirks, reaching down to pinch Louis’ thigh.

 

“Oi! Who are you calling small, Styles?” Louis crows, swatting at Harry’s chest. “I’m 5’9” I’ll have you know, and I’m scrappy, so watch it.”

 

“Aaaannnd there’s the sass I was referring to.” Harry teases. “You’re not that small, Lou. Just smaller than me.” Harry amends, nuzzling into Louis’ neck. Against all sense of logic and reason, his already maddeningly deep voice drops another octave as he whispers, “I actually, really love that you’re smaller than me. It’s fucking hot.”

 

Louis tries to keep his composure, tries to maintain the ruse of being annoyed with Harry for calling him small, but it’s slipping further and further from his grasp with every brush of Harry’s lips against his skin.

 

“I guess I can maybe see your point, a little bit.” Louis admits breathlessly.

 

“Yeah?” Harry grunts softly, lips moving with intent over the column of his throat.

 

“Mhmm.” Louis intones, letting his hands wander down Harry’s chest. “Seems I may have a bit of a thing for tall, curly-haired wankers with pretty eyes and deep voices.”

 

“Fuck.” Harry grits out. “Do you wanna…”

 

“Yeah.” Louis replies instantly, suddenly not feeling quite so knackered anymore.

 

~

 

This time, they do make it to the bedroom, where they spend an hour kissing and touching and giggling into each other’s mouths as they play wrestle and roll around in the sheets until they can no longer possibly ignore the exhaustion that’s weighing heavy on their limbs and causing their eyelids to droop.

 

Harry lays on his back with Louis tucked into his side, his head on Harry’s chest as he absently strokes down Harry’s sternum and kisses around his nipple. Harry has one hand in Louis’ hair and the other on his thigh where it’s draped over Harry’s torso.

 

“Spend the night with me.” Harry murmurs, carding his fingers through Louis’ hair.

 

“You sure?” Louis whispers.

 

Harry cups the back of Louis’ neck, prompting him to look up so he can cradle his head and guide their lips together. They share a couple slow, lazy kisses; the languid press of their lips so sensual and achingly tender that Louis’ heart starts to swell in his chest as a sense of contentment floods his body. Harry breaks the kiss with a playful nip at Louis’ bottom lip and presses their foreheads together.

 

“Do _you_ want to stay?” He asks quietly, stroking down Louis’ arm in a whisper of a touch.

 

“Yeah.” Louis says on a breathy exhale. “Yeah, babe, I do.”

 

Harry smiles so wide it looks like his face might actually break, and pulls Louis closer, settling him into the crook of his neck and winding both arms tightly around his body.

 

“Good, ‘cause I’m not letting you leave this bed.”

 

Louis giggles boyishly, snuggling further into Harry as his heart all but bursts out of his chest.

 

“Good.” He agrees.

 

~

 

Louis wakes up in the morning with a dull, pleasant ache in his thighs and arse, a mouthful of curls, and a beautiful boy pressed to his chest. He smiles into the warm skin of Harry’s bare shoulder, trailing soft kisses over the area as the memories from the previous day come flooding back in. A quick glance to the clock on Harry’s bedside table tells him that it’s actually not morning after all, but late afternoon. Considering all the sex and how knackered they both had been when they finally decided to go to sleep, Louis can’t say he’s surprised. Usually, he would be a little miffed at himself for wasting nearly an entire day in bed, but right now, lying next to Harry and listening to him breathe, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

 

~

 

Harry wakes up eventually, and insists on feeding Louis when his stomach betrays him, yet again, with a ferocious growl. Harry says he feels like an awful host and begs Louis to let him cook for him. Louis gives in without much of a fight, content to spend as much time with Harry as he can. Harry makes them breakfast for dinner, which is so incredible that Louis has to crawl under the kitchen table and blow Harry right there, because it seems like an appropriate way to show his thanks.

 

It’s nearly seven by the time they finish eating, get dressed, and make their way down to the car park and Harry’s motorbike. He drives them back across campus to Louis and Zayn’s flat, walking Louis into the building like the proper gentleman he is.

 

“So…” Harry drawls, fiddling nervously with the hem of Louis’ t-shirt ( _which is actually Harry’s t-shirt_ ) as he cages him in against the wall next to the door of his flat. “Can I see you again? Maybe do it the old fashioned way next time? You know, start with all our clothes on, take you out on a proper date, then wait until the end of the night to take you home and peel them off you slow and put my hands and mouth all over your body?”

 

“Very traditional of you.” Louis muses.

 

“I’m a proper gentleman, I assure you. Very respectable. Mums love me.”

 

 _I’ll bet they do_ , Louis thinks errantly.

 

“What about your bad boy image? Can’t imagine all that mum-wooing and respectable shit goes along well with your reputation for being some kind of modern day James Dean.”

 

“I’ll save it for the bedroom.” Harry smirks wickedly.

 

“Angel on the streets, devil between the sheets?” Louis teases.

 

“Something like that.” Harry chuckles, a low raspy sound that makes a tight coil of heat uncurl in the deep recesses of Louis’ belly and causes his chest to flood with warmth and affection. _God, he’s so fucked_. “So how about it? A proper date, that is.”

 

“I don’t know, Styles.” Louis vacillates, trying to sound regretful. “I’ve never been one to do things the proper way.”

 

Catching on to Louis’ teasing, Harry bites his lip and looks down to hide his grin, his dimple popping out.

 

“What if I promised loads of impropriety afterwards?” He offers hopefully.

 

“I think something could be arranged.” Louis nods, biting down on his own smile as he reaches out to play with the strings at the waistband of Harry’s joggers. “Just to be clear, I do want more than just this.” He tugs on Harry’s waistband again for emphasis. “A proper date sounds lovely.”

 

“Yeah?” Harry breathes, sidling up closer to Louis.

 

“Yeah. You’re more than just a shag to me. Not that it wasn’t fucking incredible, because it absolutely was, but I’d really like to get to know you better.”

 

“Really?” Harry asks, looking down at Louis with his lip between his teeth like he honestly can’t believe that Louis would want that. He’s so fucking precious, Louis can’t take it.

 

“ _Really_ , really. Here, give me your phone and I’ll put my number in.” Louis starts digging in Harry’s pocket before he even has the chance to reply, fishing it out triumphantly.

 

He hands it to Harry to unlock, then opens up a new contact and inputs his number, smirking to himself as he types out _one of your French girls_ as his contact name. Harry chuckles quietly as he looks on, obviously amused. He fires off a quick text to himself then pulls his own mobile out of his pocket to show Harry the message displayed on his home screen.

 

“There, Styles, no excuses now. You better call me.” Louis informs him, pressing Harry’s phone to the center of his broad chest.

 

Harry brings his hand up to cover Louis’. “I’ll be honest, I’m probably not going to abide by the whole _wait three days before you call_ rule. Just to warn you.”

 

“I already told you, I’ve never been one to do things the proper way.”

 

“Good, cause I don’t think I can wait that long to see you again.”

 

Louis snorts and shakes his head at Harry’s earnestness. _God, he’s such a gem_. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Curly.”

 

“Too much?” Harry questions.

 

“Not at all. I appreciate how straightforward you are, and I feel the same way.” Louis rocks up on his tiptoes to whisper his next words in Harry’s ear. “So, you know, don’t keep me waiting.”

 

Harry shivers in response, his head tilting to the side automatically like he’s already accustomed to Louis’ methods enough to know what he’s going to do next, and craves the feel of his lips on his skin. “I won’t.” He murmurs, bringing his hands up to rest on Louis’ hips.

 

“You gonna kiss me goodnight, model boy?” Louis whispers his query into the light stubble on Harry’s jaw line as he works his way towards his mouth.

 

Harry hums and turns his head to catch Louis’ lips with his own, just a gentle brush that leaves them both aching with the promise of more. They continue in this pattern of soft, barely there presses, slowly building a rhythm and fanning the flames. Louis’ tongue darts out to trace the shape of Harry’s lower lip, and Harry sighs, sounding torturously aroused as he slides his own tongue between his lips to meet Louis’. It turns filthy from there, the modest spark they had been cultivating erupts into a raging inferno of blinding heat and engulfs them completely. Harry presses Louis roughly against the wall, boxing him in mercilessly, his big hands unyielding in their hold on Louis’ hips. Louis clutches at the hard lines of Harry’s biceps where they’re straining against his long-sleeved white t-shirt and starts walking him backwards towards the door to his flat. He’s thankful he unlocked it earlier, when they first made their way up to his floor, because he couldn’t be bothered to stop kissing Harry and do it now.

 

A wicked plan begins to take form in his mind as he reaches behind himself and starts groping blindly for the doorknob. Harry’s lips are relentless, their mouths crashing together feverishly and tongues clashing like they could swallow each other whole. No matter how close they get, it doesn’t feel close enough, and Louis feels rather than hears Harry whine against his lips as their hips align just so. Louis feels his own pleasure building - that familiar sharp tug emanating from just behind his navel and a warm, molten liquid pooling low in his belly. He turns the knob behind him, already smug about what he’s going to do, and pushes the door open with his bum. He keeps his grip on the knob, so the door can’t get away from him and ruin his plan, and shuffles backwards into his flat until he’s on one side of the threshold and Harry is on the other.

 

He starts closing the door with their lips still locked, waiting until the very last moment before he pulls back and whispers a teasing, “Goodnight, Curly,” against Harry’s kiss-swollen lips, then promptly closes the door between them.

 

He can’t resist rising up on his tiptoes to look through the peephole at Harry’s shocked expression. His lips are pursed forward, his hands frozen in midair like he can’t quite believe what Louis just did. Turning to lean his back against the closed door, Louis giggles quietly to himself, pressing his fingers to his lips and reveling in the lingering tingle he feels there. He only lasts a few seconds before he takes pity on Harry ( _and himself, let’s be honest_ ) and then he’s spinning around and hastily opening the door once again. Harry’s stupidly handsome face is right there to greet him, still looking surprised and slightly bewildered. Louis fists his hands in the front of Harry’s shirt and hauls him down into another passionate, bruising kiss. After a moment of hesitation, seemingly where Harry’s brain tries to catch up to the rapid turn of events, he responds enthusiastically, groaning into Louis’ mouth and throwing his whole body into the kiss.

 

After indulging himself for a few more minutes, Louis pushes at Harry’s chest until their mouths disconnect, then slowly thumbs over Harry’s plush bottom lip. Harry nearly goes cross-eyed trying to track the motion, looking up to devour Louis with his heated gaze. There’s clear, unadulterated lust in his eyes, but it’s edged with something soft and fond that makes Louis’ heart race and his cheeks feel pleasantly warm. He’s fucking _blushing_. How is it that Harry Styles manages to turn him into a lovesick teenager after only knowing him for one day?

 

“Call me.” Louis whispers, his eyes flitting up to Harry’s meaningfully.

 

Harry nods dazedly, and with that, Louis releases his hold on Harry’s shirt and slips back into his flat, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for support. It takes him longer than he’d care to admit to find the strength to stand properly and make his way towards his bedroom, but the smile he’s wearing never really fades.

 

~

 

Zayn gets an A on his final project. He even makes a copy of his painting for Louis ( _which he proudly hangs in his bedroom_ ). Louis gets fish and chips and pints at his favorite pub whilst watching United trounce Liverpool, an A on the Russian Lit essay Zayn writes for him, and a lovely new boyfriend called Harry. Harry, this sweet, kind-hearted, dopey, fit as fuck, ridiculous joke telling, pigeon toed, motorbike riding, bright eyed, clumsy, maddeningly beautiful butterfly of a boy whom he is already falling hard and fast for. All things considered, it wasn’t the worst idea Zayn has ever had. Louis might even go as far as saying it was the _best_. Just don’t tell Zayn, his ego is already big enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless reminder that comments make me as happy as watching Harry host The Late Late Show. (Which is to say very, very happy:))
> 
> I just made a fic post for this story on tumblr. Here's the link if you want to be an angel and reblog it:  
> [](<div%20class=)<https://seducemymind-findmysoul.tumblr.com/post/175963356126/please-be-naked-17445-words-by-onlyangel28>


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